My Teacher and I
by AlfredFKirkland
Summary: When Alfred transfers to a new school overseas, he bumped into an eye-catching Englishman, who turned out to be his teacher. Can their relationship go over the "teacher-student" boundary? AU Fic.
1. A Man He Never Expected

**Disclaimer: I never own Hetalia or any of its characters. I just loved them.**

**A/N: My first fic on ! Finally after hours of brain-twisting and typing, I finished the first chapter of this fic. I would really appreciate constructive criticism and reviews! I promise I'll keep making better fics for your enjoyment! :D**

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><p>London, the capital of the UK.<p>

It was only 6 in the morning, but the city was awake. The citizens of the bustling city were getting ready to face their daily activities – some making their way to the urban centre where high rise buildings stood, others headed to the park to have an early morning jog.

One of those people, a stranger from across the Atlantic Ocean, was pushing his way past the crowd of workers to reach King Cross's station. He had to reach his new school in half an hour and if he couldn't make it by then he…

SLAM!

A crash, as expected of people in a hurry.

"I-I'm so sorry! Are you hurt?" The spectacled man, otherwise known as Alfred, apologized to the man he had just run into.

"Ouch. What in the world just happened?" The stranger exclaimed, stunned and unable to assess the current situation.

"I… You… H-here, let me help." Alfred offered his hand to the male. It seemed that he is of the same age as he is.

"Thank you." The man replied, accepting the hand held out to him and using it to help himself get his feet back on the ground.

Alfred was about to say another word or two to the unknown guy he just met, but the male quickly turned himself around, and Alfred instinctively knew that the guy would not have the time to start a nice chat with him, and the same goes to him. Snapping back to reality, he quickly charged into the train's slowly closing doors, which had just arrived a few seconds before.

Along the way to his destination, he couldn't get that stranger's image out of his mind. It was haunting him just like a ghost haunting his own grave. There was something so striking and different about the stranger. Was it his unusual, thick eyebrows? Was it his green, clear eyes? Or was it his thick British accent? Whatever it was, it certainly made the American unable to wait for his next encounter with the British.

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><p>Arthur's first day on the job seemed to be too stressful for him to handle.<p>

First of all, he was 10 minutes late for work, and that alone had caused his salary to be cut down by a notable amount. Curse that Mr. Edelstein guy. Was he that fussy over little unimportant details?

And bad luck didn't seem to leave Arthur at all. He tripped over the stairs a couple of times. He left his wallet in the Tube. And a mysterious guy crashed him in the station. Oh, great, he thought. This day could never get any better.

All of these miserable thoughts could not hinder him from recalling the image of that stranger at the station. The spectacled, blue eyed American – one would know his nationality just by paying attention to his thick American accent. What was his name again? Arthur shook his head. He felt stupid for not conversing with the American, or asking his name and place of residence, at the very least. But then again, he was rushing to get to his new work station, and if he had actually conversed with that man he would have to sacrifice more of his precious salary. Again, blame it all on that Mr. Edelstein.

After a long moment of mere daydreaming, he finally woke up when the school bell rang loudly all across the hallway. Realizing that he had a class to attend to, he ran along the hallway, unwilling to be late for his lesson. Be punctual, or die in the hands of the principal, Mr. Zwingli – the Maths teacher – had warned him earlier.

Arthur finally reached his destination while desperately catching his breath. It was the first class of his teaching career, and for this particular reason he had to make a good impression of himself in front of the whole school.

"Good morning, class." Arthur greeted the students while attempting to put on his best and warmest smile.

"Good morning, sir!" The group echoed in reply.

"A fine morning, indeed. I'll start the lesson by introducing myself, before anything else. I am Arthur Kirkland, and I will be your Literature teacher for the rest of the school year." The Englishman stated while writing his name on the whiteboard. He took some time to examine his penmanship. He had always admired it; he always did.

"And now, let me just take some time to check on the attendance list..." He took the paper on the teacher's desk and started scanning through all the names and mentioning them one by one. The pupil called, in return, would raise his/her hand, showing his/her presence.

Everything seemed normal, until he reached one single name – a name he wouldn't expect to be there.

"Alfred F. Jones?"

"Present, sir!"

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><p><strong>AN: I'm working on the second chapter on this, and I'd appreciate suggestions on how the next chapter should go and helping criticism on this story! I love you guys (and USUK) a lot and thanks for reading! :D**


	2. Detention

**A/N: **OMG Thanks for the reviews! x3 I love you guys! :D

I'm sorry for not making the first one long, it was... well, anyways, I've made this one about twice as long as the first chap, hope you guys like it! :D

And I'm still not familiar with the ways of ff, so I'll still be needing help... if you guys can help me I'll be grateful! :D

Oh, btw, I don't introduce much in the first chapter.  
><strong>Warning:<strong> **AU FIC**. USUK for most parts, some other pairings might appear in parts of the story. Rated T for BL and some 'colourful vocabulary'. Bad use of grammar and narrow vocabulary, apologies in advance for that. D: I'll try my best to be better with each fic!

And lastly, reviews are much much much much loved! 3

**P.S.: **If you guys want to request, I'm open. xD I'm still an amateur writer though. D:

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><p>"Present, sir!"<p>

Alfred hesitated before replying to the man standing in front of the class. Is his teacher really who he is? Isn't he the one whom he met before, at that train station, when he was struggling to get to school? And on top of that, how can such a young-looking guy be his teacher? Alfred sighed. Why should something this paradoxical happen to someone as awesome as he is? After all, he is the hero.

The teacher, or Sir Arthur one should say, seemed to grasp the situation quite well. He paused as Alfred sounded his reply and looked straight at the American. The British's eyes depicted the shock of encountering Alfred in an unexpected place, though not so clearly shown. The teacher finally shook his head almost unnoticeably, and continued with his list of names.

Alfred sighed. Dammit. His chance of meeting the charming man had just shattered into pieces.

No, this is impossible, Arthur contemplated. How can this Alfred guy be him? Or does that mysterious guy actually have an identical twin of himself with the name of Alfred? But his accent and tone are… no, everything about him seemed to be that of the train station guy. No, no, this is too much of a coincidence.

After a moment of awkward silence, Arthur finally got back to his real self and resumed with the attendance list. His heart was probably filled to the brim with suspense; fortunately there were no other familiar names in the checklist. He let out a relieved sigh as he returned the pen's lid back to where it belonged. He have to forget all this and get on to teaching those little wankers some useful knowledge. Yes, Arthur, forget all this and proceed with your lesson.

"For today, please open your textbooks on pa—"

"TEACHER!"

Arthur was taken aback with the sudden intervention. The students in that school were never this impudent—or so he thought. The situation was so uncommon in his sight that he was unsure on how to respond.

"Wh—Ehm, please, leave all questions until the end of the lecture." Arthur responded, unconvinced that what he just said would please the other.

"Are we going to use textbooks? Cause I don't know which ones of these are my textbooks! Hero never used any of 'em!" The guy sitting at the back exclaimed, quite bluntly. It was closely followed by an echo of laughter from the whole class.

Oh, great, a troublemaker.

"Pardon me, what's your name?" Arthur tried to suppress his temper, or else he would have to explode… in front of the class. No. That would be a great throwback to his pride. And his teaching career. Be patient, he thought. Just be patient for a little bit more.

"Heh. My name is Alfred! I am the hero! Ahahahah!" said Alfred, standing on his chair, as proud as he had always been. Little did he know that he was not at his previous school in the US, and that he was currently in a high-class transfer school in London, and it was not advisable for students like him to interrupt the teacher and stand up on his seat.

The other students dare not laugh or even say anything about his actions. A laughter would mean agreement to the blunt kid's doings, and that would be an absolute detention for them if they actually made a joke about it, and that was not something that they would want to have.

"Would you like me to explain that every student has to raise their hands and wait for the teacher to allow them to raise questions?" The teacher responded to Alfred, quite sarcastically.

"Uhm, no thanks. Explanations are boring and the hero never gets any part of it, so it'll just be a waste of time."

"I suppose that'll mean that you'll have no problem with your textbooks, whatsoever?" Sir Arthur raised his eyebrows, curious to see how Alfred would respond.

Alfred seemed to hesitate for a moment as he played around with his stacks of books. "Y-Yeah. Sure. Cool, whatever." He finally mumbled after a long pause.

"I'm glad that you finally grasped hold of the situation."

"Thanks teacher! I thought I was in trou—"

"Detention, today, after school for 1 hour."

"But—"

"No complaints."

Alfred sighed. Oh, damn, life in London would be harder than he thought it would be.

The school bell finally rang, signaling the end of the school periods. Everyone was happily streaming out of their classes, excited for their post-school activities. All of them, except for one bespectacled guy. And his name is Alfred.

His day had been a complete disaster. This transfer school was nothing as he had pictured it would be. All his research on the net showed that schools in UK would be similar to those in his homeland, the United States of America. He had expected it to be something like his previous school, where teachers would give way to students. It should not be something like this, where dictatorship from teachers kept the school running. This is preposterous!

Moreover, what he did just now in the class would have attracted laughter and attention. At least that's how it is in America. He used to be the class clown. And in that very way, he gained friends at school. Yet somehow, that tricked won't work as effectively as it would before. Not a single sound. Not a single laughter. If that is the case, then how can he settle for some friends? Oh, how he missed his best friend Matthew. If only the Canadian would be here with him in London, Alfred wouldn't be as lonely.

Dammit, Alfred thought as he banged his head on his locker door. Dammit it all!

It was during this depressed moment of his thoughts that he felt a pat on his back. Alfred was doubtful to turn around at first, but he was in need of a friend, anyway, and this guy behind him may have a chance of being one. Who knows, anything is possible.

So Alfred lifted his head off his locker and turns it backwards to see who was coming.

It turned out to be a blonde guy with hair that almost touched his shoulders. He had a pair of clear, blue eyes, and from his looks Alfred can tell that this guy is older than he is.

"Mon cher*, are you that new kid in class?" The guy greeted. He had a thick French accent. A Frenchman, or so it seemed.

"Hello, I guess?" Alfred was unsure on how to reply him.

"You seemed lonely. Why not join me to my house, and we'll study together!" The Frenchman smiled at Alfred, almost evilly. "Oh, pardon me. I'm Francis. Francis Bonnefoy. And my, are you gorgeous~"

Wait, what? Gorgeous?

"W-what are you talking about? Hero is not gorgeous! He's awesome!"

"Oh, is there a bitch who proclaimed himself as awesome?" Another voice came from behind the guy.

Both Alfred and Francis turned to look at who's coming. He seemed to be that troublemaker type of the school, and he looked significantly younger than the French guy. His eyes were striking crimson red; His hair was clear pearl white; his skin was so pale that it seemed white, just like his hair. An albino? He had never seen one since his albino neighbor in the US moved out. And that was

"Ah, Gilbert~ This guy is my new lover~"

"Lover? Ol' Fritz, Francis, get serious! How can a bitch who thought that he was more awesome than me be your fucking lover? Bullshits, I tell you." The Gilbert guy rolled his eyes. Alfred took notice at his excessive use of swearing words.

"But he's a masterpiece! Just look at his perfect body and sexy glasses~" Francis examined Alfred from head to toe with such passion that it makes Alfred uncomfortable.

"Fuck. What masterpiece. He's obviously unawesome. He's only good for his vital regions. Without that he'd just be as good as garbage." The albino spitted on the ground in disgust.

"Tsk, you and your vital regions. Oh, Alfred, this is Gilbert! The so-called awesome one in the school~" Francis exclaimed.

"So-called? Hell, I'm truly awesome!"

"Hero must be the awesome one! Not like you, you're just a fake hero!"

"What did you say?" Gilbert's red eyes are tainted with even more red, and this was a signal for Alfred to move a few steps away from the pale guy. The American also took notice of the crowd building around the area. Oh, great. No way out for the hero.

Gilbert continued to advance to Alfred and Alfred continued his retreat, and this went on and on until he bumped into a black haired guy, who seemed to be an ally of the bullies. The guy seemed to be unaware of the situation, and was staring at his two friends with that what-should-I-be-doing-here look.

"Oi, Antonio! Do something! Don't fucking let him go further!"

The guy whose name seemed to be Antonio was not sure at first on how to react, but eventually he did as he was told. He quickly grabbed both of Alfred's hands and locked them with both of his hands, while his right leg was trying to knock the spectacled guy's knees to the ground. Alfred, however, refused to give in to the situation and stood his ground.

The crowd cheer in sheer excitement.

"Ay ay ay, mi amigo~! Lo siento!* I'm just following orders from the awesome boss!" The black-haired guy apologized.

"Fuck, no need to apolog—Wait, did you just say awesome boss? Danke*!" The boss exclaimed. "Now finish up this stupid little—"

"What in the bloody world is happening here?"

The cheering crowd suddenly stood in silence. Gilbert stopped shouting, Antonio ceased all his attempts to bring Alfred down to the ground and everybody turned to see who's coming. A figure stepped out of the crowd and stared at the scene with his half-raging-half-curious eyes.

"Who the hell are you?" Gilbert scanned the man from head to toe, and he looked as if he could not recognize him as anyone from his memory.

There was no need for the man to introduce himself. The moment Gilbert caught sight of the guy's name tag, he had wished he had not let his big mouth speak those disrespectful words.

"I came to escort one guy to detention. Hm. It seemed like I received three other wankers as a bonus." Arthur scoffed. "The four of you, follow me. And Francis, stop touching the new student."

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><p><strong>ANOTHER P.S: <strong>No, I'm not going to pair UK with anyone else. Don't worry. xD

**Foreign terms** used (i'm sorry if this is not exact D:) :

Mon cher (French): My dear

Ay ay ay, mi amigo~! Lo siento! (Spanish): Oh oh, my friend, I'm sorry!

Danke (German): Thank you

**EDIT: **Thanks to Britishscones for fixing the spanish word! I really didn't have spanish lessons so I turned to google translate... /shot

RnR if you please! :D


	3. 7 o'clock

**A/N: I'M SORREEEEH. Blame school for the long update... /facedesk**

**Anyway, I can't make long chappies since I have tons of stuff to do. D: I promise I'll make longer ones after the exams! And I mean REALLY long ones. /shot**

**Enjoy! R&R if you please~ They are very much loved!**

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><p>The endless hallway led the teacher and the four students to a room in the west end of the gigantic building. Among the students, the room was known as 'The Hell of Hell'; on the other hand, the teachers would refer it as 'The Overtime Room'. There was not a single person who loved this room – well, you can exclude Mr. Edelstein in this – due to the torture it brings to anyone who would bother to enter the very room. Teachers, after countless entrances into the chamber, would eventually come out with black, tired bags on the lower part of their otherwise clear and energetic eyes (just look at Mr. Karpusi, the History teacher – he fulfills his slumber duty in class due to 'The Overtime Room'). If that was not enough of a reason to despise the detention room, you might want to examine the school records to see just how many students have either dropped out or moved out of the school due to their detention period.<p>

"Step inside, misters." The teacher instructed. This was responded by groans and mumbles from the four.

"Do we have to get inside the fucking detention room? We were just getting to know the… awesome new student!" Gilbert whined.

"But you were pressing the hero to—"

"Do you want to stay out or detention or what?" the albino whispered the American. Alfred realized his point and decided to not let any other pointless words come out of his big mouth.

"Yeah, right. Now get insight, you git."

And thus, the detention period began.

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><p>"Can we go out now?"<p>

"No."

"…"

"What about now?"

"No."

"…"

"Now?"

"Bloody hell, how many times should I tell you that you are not to leave this room until 5 p.m.!"

"But Gilbert and the gang have left half an hour ago!"

"You deserve more detention, young lad."

"The hero have done nothing to deserve a detention! Sir Kirkland is being unfair to the hero!"

"Look," Arthur finally rose up from his chair and approached the student's table. "You were being immature and ridiculous in my lecture session this afternoon."

"But I was just—"

"You said that you don't know on which textbooks to use."

"I guess—"

"And therefore you must have been unfamiliar to the way of life here in London, most especially to the traditions of this school."

"I—"

"Do you even know why I let you stay longer here, Jones?"

Alfred was trying to construct some smart words to strike back on the teacher, but he failed in doing so. He decided to keep his big mouth shut for the meantime.

Arthur sighed. He strode back to his desk and scribbled something on a small piece of paper. Alfred couldn't quite see what it is; could it be one of those detention slips which the teacher gave to the detention students, just like what he used to get in his old school? No, it couldn't be. Alfred knew he had that certain piece of paper in his bag... did he? He leaned over to grab his bag and check its contents, just to make sure. By that time, the elder had returned by Alfred's side and handed over the scribbled paper to him.

It was nothing near to being a detention slip.

It was… an address?

"You can read well, I presume?" Arthur asked in a rather sarcastic tone.

"O-Of course I can! The hero can't do something as simple as reading? Ahahahah!" Alfred laughed nervously. The Brit couldn't figure out if he was being nervous or ticked off. But anyway.

"Very well, then. And with that, I suppose you can read maps and find addresses considerably well?"

"YES! Of course the hero can! What, you think the hero is—" The American began to raise his voice.

"Manners, Jones. Manners."

"Right. I'm just being overexc—"

"With that two skills mastered, it wouldn't be a problem for you little git to present yourself to the address stated, yes?"

"What do you—"

"7 o'clock, tonight. And please do remember that I am not one who would tolerate unpunctuality."

Shock struck the whole of Alfred's body that very moment. What could a teacher want from a new transfer student by asking him to travel all the way to his place? Would he get some free tutoring? Or was he inviting him to dinner? Perhaps he will be taught some simple British culture and manners. Or did he have the desire for Alfred's body…?

Oh, hell, no. Alfred quickly dismissed the latter. It would be impossible for a well-mannered British teacher like him to be gay. Unlike him. He had come out of the closet a few months before his transfer. And, well… he preferred best if that matter wouldn't be brought to his mind ever again.

The teacher wouldn't have any lustful intentions by asking Alfred to come by to his house.

It would just be a simple tutoring. Or dinner. Or British culture.

Wouldn't it?


End file.
